


Adventures in Parenting

by Infinite_Monkeys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Atypical Cuteness, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Just Odin Trying to Take Care of a Baby, Kid Thor (Marvel), Odin (Marvel)'s Parenting, Odin (Marvel)'s Solid B Parenting, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Monkeys/pseuds/Infinite_Monkeys
Summary: Odin, ruler of the Nine Realms, returned from the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim with a tiny baby in his arms and plans to raise the alien infant as his second son.His wife, Queen Frigga of Asgard, disagreed.It was no matter. Odin had borne the weight of the crown and survived the horrors of war. Next to that, how difficult could it be to care for one small child?





	Adventures in Parenting

**Author's Note:**

> Talk about showing up late with a Starbucks. Everyone do me a favor and pretend it's, like, 2012. Thank you!

Odin felt the weight of eyes on his back as he walked the small path, the stares of his men hidden in the hills and among the trees, keeping watch. The grassy Vanaheim terrain was nondescript, the farmhouse in the distance even more so, and an ordinary traveler would not have cause to give it a second glance. Still, enough of Asgard's best-trained soldiers were hidden in the hills to drive off a small army, keeping watch as though they guarded Asgard's most precious treasures.

And rightly so.

He shifted the small bundle he had tucked under his cloak, careful that it remained hidden from view. The men watching were absolutely loyal to him, but even so he had no desire to plant the seeds of rumor. The baby squirmed enough to tell him it had woken, but did not cry, and he bounced it gently while willing it to stay silent until he reached the house.

The door flew open while he was still a few paces out, and the warm smile that greeted him was enough to pull an answering one to his lips, despite the pain the motion set throbbing in his missing eye.

“You made it back.” Frigga threw her arms around his neck, and he shifted just slightly to keep the baby from being crushed between them. He kissed her with another smile before drawing her inside, and she pulled back far enough to regard him critically. She ran concerned fingers over the edge of the bandage wrapping half his face, but did not comment. “Is the war won, then?”

He allowed himself a deep sigh as he moved to a chair and sat down. “It is. The terms of Laufey's surrender have been finalized. We have the Casket of Ancient Winters, and the last of our troops withdrew from Jotunheim this morning.”

“That is good news. I was beginning to worry that Thor would remember this place as his childhood home.” She had moved to sit beside him, but now she stood. “I'll wake him. I just put him down for the night, but he'll be delighted to see his father again after so long.”

He stopped her with a hand in her shoulder. “Wait.” She stopped and turned to face him, the unspoken question in her eyes. “There is something we must discuss.”

With a bit more dramatic flair than was probably necessary, he moved aside the cape slung over one shoulder and brought out the babe, still tucked in one arm. It blinked at the light and scrunched up its face as though it meant to cry, but he bounced it gently and it settled, as it had since he had picked it up. He pressed two fingers to the tiny forehead and let just enough magic seep through to shift the baby back to its natural Jotunn form. When he removed them the infant's own magic took over, washing away blue and red to leave pale skin and unfocused grey-green eyes. 

Frigga drew in a deep breath. “Odin,” she said in a warning tone. “What is this?”

“I found him in the temple,” he answered, running a callused finger over the tiny cheek and smiling fondly. 

Her eyebrows shot up. “You _stole_ a baby? Odin, you can't _do_ that. You have to give him back.”

“I did not _steal_ him,” he said, lowering his voice when the baby looked about to cry again. “He was abandoned and left to die. I could not leave him, Frigga.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned, and he tensed. This wasn't how he had imagined this conversation going. “Even if his parents were killed he could have other family.”

“I am sure,” he said. “They left him intentionally. He is small; Jotunheim does not look kindly on weakness.”

Her frown deepened. “So what do you intend to do with him?”

He'd thought long and hard on it in the journey here, but in the end, his heart had made the decision for him. “I want to keep him,” he said softly. “Raise him as our child, as a brother for Thor.”

He could almost see it; two boys growing together, playing together, both watching the other's back in battle. His relationship with his own brothers had been rocky, but that needn't be true for his own boys. They'd grow close, perhaps even close enough that—

“No.”

Frigga's answer jolted him out of his imaginings. “Pardon?” he said, almost certain he had heard wrong. 

“Thor is still very young,” she said, “and we agreed we wanted to wait a few decades before having another child. And this,” she gestured to the baby, “he's the child of some unknown Frost Giant—”

“Laufey,” he interrupted. “He was Laufey's son.” 

For a second she just stared at him as though she were trying to assess his sanity. “All the more reason, then,” she said at last. “He is the child of our enemy, and putting him in line for the throne of Asgard would not be _wise_. Were it ever discovered, there would be an uproar.” She rested a hand against his cheek and looked him in his remaining eye. “Do not mistake me,” she said earnestly. “I am glad you rescued this child, and that you can be open enough with your heart to welcome the son of your enemy into your home—it is a reminder of why I love you. But Asgard is not ready for this. Nor are we. I do not think you realize the work involved in caring for a child so young.” She let her hand fall, and brushed a tiny wisp of hair out of the baby's face. “We shall find him a good home,” she said softly. “There are many who would love the opportunity to raise a child, whatever his origins.”

A profound disappointment settled over him; he hadn't realized how set he had become on his nebulous plan, or how attached he'd grown to the baby. He searched its face, thinking of names and trusted couples, trying to imagine handing over the child he'd already started thinking of as his son to another. The baby yawned, showing off a tiny pink tongue, then its long eyelashes brushed its cheek as its eyes closed. 

“Very well,” he said softly. “If you do not wish to raise the child I will not force him upon you.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his arm. 

“However,” he continued, “I still intend to keep him. I do not require that you involve yourself, but you may not contradict my claim.”

“What?” She pulled back, staring at him in shock. 

“I will raise him,” he said simply. “It cannot be so difficult.” 

“Can't it,” she said, and a harsh, displeased note crept into her tone. “Do you have any idea at all how to care for a baby?”

He swept forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Already I am responsible for all the people of Asgard and those in the realms we rule. Surely a single child will not overturn that balance.” He met her eyes earnestly. “I promise I shall see this through, and not ask for your aid or your time.”

She hummed. “And what of your own son? Will I be left to raise Thor on my own?”

He shook his head. “This changes nothing. I have time enough and room enough in my heart for two sons.”

The eyes that met his had taken on a dangerous glint. “And I do not?”

“That's not what I was implying.” As if he could understand that they were arguing his fate, or perhaps just in reaction to the harsh voices, the baby started to cry, a thin, piercing wail. He bounced it again, but this time it would not be appeased, and continued crying while Frigga watched unhappily. 

“He's hungry,” she said at last, and he raised his eyebrows. The cries sounded exactly the same as they had earlier, when he had been cold, and before that, when he'd misliked the way Odin held him. Could she truly tell the difference? Or was it just a reasoned guess? 

He smiled to cover over his uncertainty. “Then I shall feed him,” he said, and leaned in to steal one more kiss before heading to the kitchens. 

“You were going to see Thor,” she said, and the wailing in his arms hit a new pitch. 

“And I shall,” he promised, “just as soon as Loki is fed.” He had been turning names over in his head the entire walk over, and this one had stuck with him. It seemed appropriate, somehow. 

When he reached the door, he hesitated, meeting Frigga's eyes once more. “If I may ask just one quick question,” he said, “until we make the journey home and I again have access to the libraries of Asgard.” He swayed gently, and while the crying didn't stop, it grew slightly less frantic. “I know that the child is too young to chew solid food, for he has yet to grow teeth. However, were I to cut meat into very small pieces...” He trailed off at the horrified look she was giving him. “Relax, my love, I was merely jesting,” he said, and filed away a mental note for later. 

Milk. He knew for certain that babies could drink milk, and there would be some on ice in the kitchen. He could heat it...warm? Or merely room temperature? Or perhaps a Jotun babe would prefer it straight from the ice? 

As he made his way into the small kitchen, he reflected that, perhaps, this might prove more difficult than he first imagined. 

As he took to feeding the babe with the edge of a cloth dipped in milk, it became clear that nothing about this commitment or the role he had taken on would be easy. 

When the babe decided he'd had enough and promptly fell asleep in Odin's arms, warm and comfortable and trusting, he decided that whatever the challenges, they would be worth it. 

* * *

Odin awoke instantly, a sudden shift from sleep to wakefulness that remained from time spent in battle tents and would no doubt take decades to fade. He took in his surroundings before he stood—the small fireplace, the frosted windowpanes, the overstuffed chair where he had fallen asleep—and caught himself just in time to avoid sending the baby tucked into one arm to the floor. 

Flashes from the past night came back to him, of pacing over the rug and trying fruitlessly to get the infant to settle. The second he stopped moving the boy would cry, and were it not for the years spent hefting his great battleaxe he feels his arms would be exhausted from the strain. 

“Good morning.” He looked up to the doorway to find his lovely wife smiling, clearly on the edge of holding back laughter. “How was your sleep, my husband?”

He shook his head to clear it. “Well enough,” he said, and stood, taking care not to jostle the baby. It shifted but then settled without fully waking. 

“I am gladdened to hear it,” she said. “I have much packing to do if we are to return to Asgard. I assume you can watch Thor while I prepare?”

“Of course,” he said, and smiled at the prospect. It had been too long since he'd seen his now-elder son, and he'd missed him many a day on the battlefield. 

“Papa!” Thor shrieked, and a tiny blur whipped around the doorframe and threw itself at his legs. He'd grown; he now came up past Odin's knees, and his little voice had grown steadier, more confident in his ability to sound out the word. 

Odin dropped to one knee and Thor threw his arms around his neck, bumping a small head against his jaw hard enough to make the scars over his empty socket ache. He hugged his son, more grateful for the opportunity because of how long it'd been denied him.

“Wha that?” Thor asked, pointing to Loki. Odin smiled and shifted the baby down to where Thor could see, and corrected him with a stern “be gentle” when his hand reached out a little too quickly. 

Thor froze and looked to him, then very slowly moved to pat the baby's forehead. He scrunched his face but didn't wake. 

“He's your brother,” Odin said, and Thor's eyes went wide, studying the baby with new interest. “Do you know what that means?” 

Thor shook his head, blond curls bouncing. 

“It means it's your duty to watch over him,” Odin said, memories of his own elder brothers and the torment they had bestowed dancing at the edge of his mind. This would be different; he could teach his boys better. “When you are older, you shall help to protect him and keep him safe.”

Odin didn't actually expect Thor to understand—he was very young yet—but his little boy nodded, surprisingly solemn, and stared down at the baby with the grave expression of one who realizes they have been handed a serious responsibility. 

The moment passed quickly; soon Thor bounced around again, babbling stories too quickly for Odin to fully decipher his baby speech and asking for breakfast. Still, the sense that Thor had somehow understood and accepted the responsibilities that came with being an older brother stuck with him, and it comforted him, reassuring him that he had done the right thing. 

Odin wasn't one much for cooking, but he mixed together a simple batter that could be made from soldier's rations and showed Thor how to bake it on a hot stone in the hearth. Thor watched it cook with wide eyes while Odin gently heated some milk for the baby, and if the resultant cakes were slightly burned, at least they did not starve. 

He finished feeding Loki as Thor dutifully choked down the last of the unappealing soldier's meal (“just like Papa!”), and he turned to find Frigga watching from the doorway, a slight amused smile gracing her lovely face. 

“Are you ready to depart then, my love?”

“I am.” She brushed off her skirts, then gestured to the packed bags behind her. 

“Very well,” he said, smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time in a long while. He ruffled Thor's hair, and the toddler laughed. “Let us go home.”

* * *

Some of the adjustments to the newest member of Odin's family came easily enough. 

The people took the announcement well, and with a great deal of enthusiasm, as he expected. The fabricated news of the queen's hidden pregnancy and the birth of a second prince came amidst celebration of their recent victory, and the story did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm. The newest addition to the royal family was a symbol of the better times to come. 

Other challenges, though, had no easy solution. The baby had retained its Aesir shape thus far, at least in his presence, but he dare not leave the boy alone with a nurse. Tensions between the Aesir and Jotunn ran high. Their victory came at the cost of too many lives, and few among his subjects had not lost a brother, a sister, a parent, a child, a partner. Odin could not predict what might happen if the baby reverted to his original skin away from him. 

But despite what he had told Frigga, it seemed he was ill-suited to the task of being an infant's sole caretaker. 

To make it worse, his son seemed absolutely determined to prevent him from sleeping. 

“Please,” he said, his words long since reduced to a stream of inarticulate muttering, “please, my son, I know you can sleep. Will you do it? Can you settle down for your father?” 

The baby started to quiet, but he dare not hope it meant he would actually sleep. No, the boy would settle down just far enough to lure him into a false sense of security, as though to say “see, I am asleep, you can rest now,” then spring back to full, crying wakefulness the second he was tucked into bed. “Surprise,” he seemed to say, “I am still awake after all.” If it was a prank, Odin tired of it. 

He paced the halls for another few minutes, wondering if it were possible to fall asleep on one's feet while walking. Sharks, they said, could swim in their sleep; perhaps he could learn the trick of it. 

After another few moments he crept back into the temporary room that'd been set up for him, moving to the cradle beside the bed and slowly, carefully settling his precious bundle. 

Which immediately began to cry, the thin, reedy sound piercing his heart with bone-deep disappointment. 

“Tricked me again, have you.” He sighed, picking Loki back up and meeting his tiny blue-green eyes, narrowed to slits as he fussed. “Yes, you had me fooled, little one. I look forward to the day you learn a new game.” He tucked the child into his arm and pushed wearily back to his feet. “I don't suppose it'd matter to you if your king ordered you to sleep?” 

The baby let out another shrill cry before starting to calm as he fell back into the familiar rhythm of his pacing, and he sighed again. “No, I thought not.”

As he wound his way up and down the halls, and up and down again, he reminded himself of the long days of marching, the grueling pace set as they traveled between strongholds and trudged through the snow. 

If he could push through his exhaustion then, for the sake of a long and fruitless war, he could do so now, for the sake of peace and the family he hoped to build. 

After all, he reminded himself, between war and peace, this was the nobler cause. 

Odin would not have it said that only the lust for blood could spur him to action. He marched, with a soldier's rhythm and a father's love, deep into the long hours of the night. 

* * *

Whispers ran along the lines of petitioners, assembled and waiting their turn to present their grievances and disputes to their king. If he could harness the speed with which they spread, there would be little need of his ravens to send messages or bring news of his kingdom to his ears. 

The subject of the whispers nestled, unawares, in the crook of his elbow while he sat on the throne. _Now you sleep_ , he though to himself, and he couldn't decide if it were truly humorous or if only his exhausted brain made it so. _Little traitor_. 

As if in response, Loki opened his eyes and blinked up at his father. They were nearly fully green in this light, almost startlingly pale against his dark lashes, though Odin suspected they'd darken with age. 

But now that he had woken, the second prince's tendency towards loud displeasure threatened to make itself known. Odin could _feel_ it, like the approach of a storm, in the way the tiny body started to squirm in his arms. 

He cast about, searching for something that could serve as a suitable distraction. 

Something round and gold and shiny glittered in the belt of one of the guards, and he beckoned the man over. The lord stating his case on the steps before the throne faltered. “My king?” 

“Go on,” Odin said, “I am still listening. Hand me that.” The guard glanced down at himself in surprise, then drew the dagger whose hilt had caught his attention. Odin gave a nod of thanks as he passed it over. Hopefully, the way it caught the light would be enough to keep his magpie of a son occupied. 

The baby's eyes snapped open, and Odin very carefully took the knife by the blade, dangling the handle just out of reach and slowly swinging it back and forth. It worked, well enough at least. The room remained silent except for the droning of the lord, something about how his neighbor's bees were invading his garden and stealing from his flowers. 

Well, it remained silent for a short while. Loki let out a startlingly loud giggle. Odin frowned; the boy would have to be older than he had thought, smaller than he had assumed, to be able to do that. The thought sent up a pang of worry that didn't quite eclipse the way his heart swelled at the sound. 

The lord who had been speaking huffed. “Allfather, I—” 

“No, I quite agree with my son's ruling. The bees shall increase the fruits of your garden, as access to your garden shall increase the yield of honey from your neighbor's beehives. Both of you benefit, and therefore neither should be required to pay the other recompense. I would also suggest,” he added when the man started to look mutinous, “that this was perhaps a matter that could have been settled between you, without the need to trouble your king.” 

That put a spark of worry, or perhaps embarrassment, into the righteous indignation smoldering in the man's scowl. He bowed and apologized and, more importantly, left. 

The knife shifted just slightly in his grip, and he looked down to find the baby's small fist wrapped around the hilt. He wobbled it as though he weren't quite sure how he'd gotten into this situation and hadn't quite figured out how to let go, and Odin smiled. “Like that, do we?” That boded well. He'd have _two_ little warriors on his hands in no time, running about at his heels and screeching like pterodactyls the way Thor already did. 

He looked up to find the eyes on him wary. “Are any of the other matters for the day similarly petty?” He asked. 

All but two of the dozen who still stood waiting faded off, presumably to handle their own arguments like rational adults. Or to return the next petitions day, in the hopes that their king would be in a mood more amenable to taking their side of the squabble. Odin sighed. Either way, he couldn't say he was sorry to see them go. 

The two petitioners that remained did indeed have legitimate grievances, and whether he was lucky or they were also cowed by his show of frustration, they managed to communicate them to him within a reasonable time frame. The baby played quietly with the knife (and no, he would not be admitting that to Frigga ever), and in short order he had finished and descended the steps to the throne. 

Already, his people were talking. Odin could hear the whispers, brought to his ears by Gungnir in its concern. 

_He never allows the child out of his sight._

_He's seen too much of war._

_Haven't we all?_

“Haven't we all,” Odin agreed, and made his way back towards the rest of his family. 

* * *

He found himself back in Thor's nursery, with almost disconcertingly vague memories of the long walk there. The nurse gave him an odd look when he'd assured her that no, he could look after both boys for the evening, but she'd nodded politely and left. Almost as soon as she was gone, he sank down against the far wall, leaning back to watch his elder son play and holding the baby in his lap. 

Thor was building a tower out of small colored blocks of wood, and he made a special point of coming over and showing each block individually to his father and baby brother before adding it to the lopsided structure. 

“What are you building?” he asked, and Thor's lopsided little grin lit up the room. 

“A house!” He shouted, and ran in a circle around it for emphasis. 

“And who lives in the house?” Odin asked, smiling a small exhausted smile. 

“Me,” Thor said, adding another block. 

“Anyone else?”

“You,” Thor said immediately. “And Amma and baby,” he added. 

“Very good. It is a fine house.”

With all the grace of the House of Odin, he promptly tripped over the structure and fell down on top of it, sending the blocks flying. Odin braced himself for the tears, but Thor only picked himself up, undeterred, and set to building the tower over again. He worked with focus but not much forethought, but every time he built himself into a corner, or the structure would fall, he'd start again. 

The sound of Thor's contented play served as a backdrop of soft noise as Odin drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

When Odin woke, it was feeling strangely refreshed. Loki must have slept a few hours, at least, a new record as far as he was concerned. 

Relief shuttered almost immediately to panic, however, when he glanced around and realized that he didn't see the baby. 

He swallowed back the hot panic that rose in his throat, and forced himself to do a careful sweep of the room. He'd been sitting here, against the wall; Loki had been in his arms. 

He moved his cloak and checked underneath it, patted the space on the ground by his thighs, then stood up and turned around slowly. Surely the boy couldn't crawl yet—he'd been unable to fully hold up his own head, and infants did not grow so fast as that. Had he mislaid his son in his exhaustion? Had someone _stolen_ him? No—he must be here. He must. 

Odin paced the floor of the room, moving cushions and blankets and discarded clothing, checking beneath the furniture and atop it, anywhere a sleep-deprived king might have dropped the baby that was his responsibility. Had he grown so tired as to walk in his sleep? The thought hit him with a jolt of panic; if that were the case, the baby truly could be anywhere. 

He had swallowed his pride and resolved to ask Heimdall to help him find his own child when the door to the nursery creaked and opened. 

Frigga stood in the doorway, and his heart raced as though he'd been caught in some misdeed. Perhaps he had; he'd made a mistake, certainly in not keeping better track of the baby, and possibly in thinking himself qualified to handle it alone. 

The next instant, though, she shifted something in her arms, and the relief that washed over him when he realized she had Loki nearly swept away all of his embarrassment. “Thank goodness,” he said aloud, “I thought for a moment I'd lost him.” 

She gave him an odd look, searching. She continued to walk, pacing the room and swaying slightly in a way he'd become too familiar with in the last sleepless nights, even as she spoke. “He woke, and you didn't. I thought it would be best.” 

“I am sorry,” Odin said, taking deep breaths to calm his still-racing heart. The baby was safe, even if he'd now technically broken his promise, and he was glad. “I did not mean for you to have to take him.” He pushed to his feet, feeling every one of his many centuries as his body clamored for him to stay down, to rest. “Give him here. I can—” 

“When was the last time you slept through the night?” She stopped, for a moment, but Loki crunched up his face and took a deep breath to start wailing, so she resumed her pacing. “Odin?” 

“A necessary sacrifice.” He battled a sudden bout of dizziness, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He won. 

She sighed. He readied himself for a lecture, bracing himself against it because at this point he could not possibly give her what she wanted. Loki was _his_ , tied to him with a deep, visceral connection that he could not, would not sever. The boy was his son, his child, a part of his heart. It would be easier to lose an arm or a leg than give him up now. 

But the lecture never came. “You aren't going to let this go,” she said instead. “You love him, don't you?” One finger brushed against the baby's cheek, slow and gentle, and he twitched as though he were dreaming. 

He nodded, warmth blooming in his chest behind the exhaustion. “I do.”

“I should have known.” She sighed, deep, heavy, as though this weighed heavily upon her. “I suppose we have another child, then.” 

“I do not require this of you,” he said quickly. “I am sorry to have required your help, and I shall be more careful in the future.” He would. He had no desire to revisit the terror he'd felt when he woke and Loki was gone. 

“Good.” She smiled, the expression gentle. “But if he is to be your son and Thor's brother, then he ought to be mine as well.”

He watched her, the way she swayed as she stood, calm and soothing, and a smile slowly spread across his face. “You've gotten attached as well, haven't you?” 

“Maybe.” She came over to stand beside him, staring down at his, no, _their_ son's sleeping face. “I'll take him tonight,” she said, in a tone that allowed for no arguments. “You need to sleep, and bathe.” 

“Are you certain?” 

“I am. Though I expect you shall still contribute. No running off now that I've agreed to be his mother.” 

“Of course not.” He smiled, but her face went sober, too serious. He may have been king, and fearless upon the battlefield, but her expression still unnerved him. Distant, in a way Odin associated with her gift of foresight. 

“I only hope the decision won't bring him to grief,” she said at last. 

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “We shall raise him as our own son. Even he shall not know the difference.” He leaned in and kissed her temple. “All will be well, my love. You'll see.”

She still looked troubled, though the expression smoothed somewhat as she leaned in to brush a lock of dark hair out of their youngest son's face. “I hope you're right.”

**Author's Note:**

> And now for the best bit: some recommendations! If you want more "Odin is a dad with babies" content, I recommend you check out:
> 
> [sweet child o' mine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15706050) by [Mercia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercia/pseuds/Mercia)
> 
> This is one of my favorite authors, and if you want a really excellent Odin character study and some just fantastic prose, this is it. It's a darker but not entirely unsympathetic portrayal of Odin, and it is seriously, seriously worth reading. A++ would and do recommend. 
> 
> [any need as strong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/478368) by [Katbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/pseuds/Katbelle)
> 
> Okay, so I read this quite a while ago, came back and skimmed it for the purpose of making this rec list, and realized there are some parts that are similar to the story you just read. Was this story powerful enough to stick in my psyche for over a year in hazy, half-remembered details? Or do this author and I just have similar ideas of how Odin is as a dad? In either case, this is a very excellent story and I absolutely recommend it, especially if you're a fan of more sympathetic portrayals of Odin. It does some fun things with a non-linear perspective, spans from the Jotun-Asgardian war to the first Avengers movie, and is just all-around neat. 
> 
> [On the Care and Feeding of Sorcerers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/823033) by [fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity)
> 
> So I know Loki isn't quite a baby in this one, but it's still a really sweet bit of family fluff. I highly recommend it if you're looking for a fic with Odin being a good dad. 
> 
> This list is, of course, far from exhaustive, so if you have some fun faves in this category, please feel free to drop a rec in the comments!


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